


I Don't Need to Be Forgiving

by Krystalicekitsu



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: comment_fic, Community: kissbingo, Kissing, M/M, Neal's Tracker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-02
Updated: 2010-09-02
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystalicekitsu/pseuds/Krystalicekitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal's four years are up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Need to Be Forgiving

**Author's Note:**

> First posted at [](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/profile)[**comment_fic**](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/) [HERE](http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/182384.html?thread=39384688%20-%20t39384688) because the prompt is what I happened to be looking for. Actually for my [](http://kissbingo.livejournal.com/profile)[**kissbingo**](http://kissbingo.livejournal.com/) [card](http://krystalicekitsu.livejournal.com/99198.html%20-%20cutid1) for the fill 'greetings: hello'

  


  
Four years.

Four very long, not-so-smooth years.

Four years of Neal Caffery and his damn smirk. Four years of his disregard for orders and the law. Four years of that damn hat, and getting his pockets picked, and his suits mocked. Four years of his ridiculous associates and friends and his ability to get himself into the maximum amount of trouble in the shortest amount of time humanly _possible_.

Four years of stupid games and trust issues. Four years hunting people that Neal should've known well enough to leave alone. Four years of favors. Four years of rules bending and breaking. Four years of worry and stress. Four years of Neal twisting him in circles and knots and turning him every which-way on a whim.

Four years of insufferable pranks and risks and guessing games.

Four damn years.

"You gonna stare at me all day, or can I have the key now?" That damn smile. Again. Now of all days, that damn smile and it's all Peter can do to not throw the fucking key at his head, goad him into a fight, into something stupid so he has a reason to arrest him, lock him up.

Keep him.

Four damn years.

He doesn't care that he's wrinkling the suit Neal bought him for Christmas a year ago on June's nice hardwoods. That he probably looks ridiculous bending down when he could just hand the key over. Just concentrates on lifting Neal's pant leg as slow as he can, turning the anklet towards him just as carefully. He takes his time, because every second that damn tracker stays on is one more second here. Neal and him both here.

No one running, no one left waiting, or watching. Wishing. No one's wishing for stupid impossible things. (He's not sure what he'd do, if Neal ever actually asked him. Doesn't think he'd have the strength to say 'no'. Not sure it wouldn't be worth the running to see that stupid smirk every day.)

As soon as the tracker's off. That's when he'll bolt.

Peter wants to break the key in spite. (Maybe it's something closer to bitter, biting sadness though.)

The key clicks and locks.

A soft beep.

Peter sighs, a soft exhalation that ghosts over his hands.

He stands in a swift movement, coiled grace threaded with despair and resentment (although of whom, he's not sure).

Manages a smirk. Comments, "Well, it's been real."

Or tries to.

He opens his mouth at least.

He must have, because Neal's tongue is in his mouth. The startled noise he makes is lost under Neal's mouth and lips and teeth. Neal kisses him like he's drowning and Peter's that last gulp of air in the world- hands wrapped around his head, body flush with Peter's, mouth slanted and warm and demanding.

No, not demanding.

 _Needing_.

When Neal pulls back (but not away, just adjustments in center of gravity and balance), Peter is shocked to discover his own hands clenched in the lapels of Neal's suit jacket and threaded through his hair.

"...stay."

"What?" Peter concentrates on the sound coming out of Neal's mouth, rather than the pretty shape it makes.

"I want to stay."

 _Keep him_.

Peter kisses him.

And, eventually, he does keep him.

  



End file.
